


July Writing Prompts

by itsafangirlthing123



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Memories, Disability, F/F, Fiction, Gen, I shouldn't be allowed to write anytime between 12-2 am., I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Music, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Lesbian Character, Physical Disability, Poetry, Service Dogs, Short & Sweet, Single Parents, Some of this is based on real stuff, They/them prounouns, True Love, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-09 16:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsafangirlthing123/pseuds/itsafangirlthing123
Summary: Orginal pieces inspired by this months prompts from Writers Write. I write for a minimum of 10 min. for each.Prompts: (Note this started on the July 6th)1. White Board2. Traditional3. Sunshine4. Fall5. iTunes6. I got this7. Scene after scene8. Dear Anna9. He clenched his fist10. A priest walks into11. Surprise12. May I?13. Noodles14. Coffee15. Grass16. Coaster17. Flower patterns18. Lemon wedges19. Telephone cord20. Used tissue21. Leopard print22. USB23. Rough cut24. Inner workings25. Striped curtains26. Heavy





	1. White Board

**Author's Note:**

> I barely proofread any of these. I do not "prepare" for each day's prompt. I open word, set a timer, read the prompt, and just write. I don't stop for 10 minutes, though sometimes I do keep writing.

1\. While an upgrade from chalkboards, how the hell are everyone’s markers dead? Did they die together? Were they murdered? I thought you said they were new?  
2\. Elegantly written bad news, is still bad news. Just because you write that our essay is due in three days, and should be 12 pages long, in a cute font with dots on the letters, doesn’t make it not an essay due in three days, and should be 12 pages long.  
3\. The to-do list is just a stressful suggestion of things for the next couple of days, I guess? Did we ever accomplish everything listed on the to-do list in one class? Ever? I think things just kept getting rewritten.  
4\. Why are the missed things from the to-do list, from the day before, always rewritten? Why not leave them? It is just going to have to be done again tomorrow.  
5\. We need to talk about time management and ways to set realistic time goals.  
6\. Maybe add it to the to-do list?  
7\. What is the purpose of writing the curriculum standards? I know it’s required, but who are they written for? If it’s for us, I would like to formally inform you that we do not read them. Ever. If they are for you, I feel like you may want to read them before the day of? If lessons are planned why would you need them? If they are for guests, have they memorized the standards and are checking things off? I don’t remember seeing such guests often.  
8\. Who wrote the curriculum standards? Where do they live? I am asking for a friend.  
9\. Why did you respond “It won’t be on the test”? I understand you have a limited amount of time to pour all of the curriculum standards from your to-do list into us, but I think some other information may need to be discussed.  
10\. Why do you teach to the test? I know. I know, you receive a grade based on our grades, but maybe my grade would be higher if I had contextual information. For example, understanding cells and how we were able to understand them is important, yes? Then maybe mention the woman whose cells were taken and sold without her knowledge, because they grew and reproduced in a lab environment when nothing else would. P.s. her name was Henrietta Lacks. But I digress.  
11\. I do not fit a cookie cutter mold, so why does your whiteboard remind me a lot of one? Harsh metallic edges. Squeezing things into the sides when you run out of room. I do not blame you, I know you were given nothing to cut the edges, but who do I turn to? Who wields the knife strong enough to cut the seams? How can I reach them? What do I need to do to rip the blade from their hands and slash the board into strips?


	2. Traditional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Define traditional: Existing in or as part of a tradition; long-established; produced, done, or used in accordance with tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is by far my least liked one so far. Its all over the place, but the only way to go from the bottom is up.

Define traditional: Existing in or as part of a tradition; long-established; produced, done, or used in accordance with tradition.

Tradition offers a comfortable way of life, with rules that have been set forth long before you even have to stress about forming them. I know that it is a part of our family tradition to light the menorah and say prayers every Chanukah. It is tradition to eat latkes with sour cream or apple sauce.  
I, a nice Jewish girl, was supposed to follow tradition and marry a nice Jewish boy, preferably from a family doing well financially. We would then have a handful of beautiful Jewish children, who were to be raised Jewish, of course. Said Jewish children would go to Hebrew school, and maybe even visit Israel when they’re older.  
So I, a nice Jewish girl, said fuck tradition and married a strong atheist girl. (Though I did follow the finical requirements, her family is doing fairly well.) Conveniently my parents are not traditional Jewish parents, who have managed to come to terms with our marriage. They even insisted on throwing a proper wedding for us.  
So here we are in the mid stages of wedding planning. My wife wants roses. Roses! I said fuck tradition, and she responded with the most traditional love flower ever. So we have compromised- look man I know how this goes, I knew to fucking compromise- and have settled for lilies and roses.


	3. Sunshine

As she walks into the room, a cup of tea in hand, it’s like the first time I had laid eyes on her. Her beautiful, rich coffee eyes, call everyone into their depths. Her smile beams, rivaling the sun at its brightest. That smile will make everyone send one right back to her; how could you not? Her tight curls bounce as she walks towards me. The sun, behind her, gives her a beautiful halo around those lush chocolate curls. Her skin radiant, and even the dimples and ~~imperfections~~ are the image of perfection. As she leans down to hand me the cup, and then join me on the couch, she gives me a questioning look. She never could understand just how radiant her beauty is. I say nothing, and lean my head onto her shoulder, with a soft smile. Looking out the window, the sky as blue as the bright blue ~~sedums~~ succulents that brighten the room. The two of us spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying tea, some good books, and each other’s company.

When she wakes me from my light nap, the sun is just beginning to set. The sky now rich with pinks, violets, and blues. She takes a picture of the magnificent scene, while I snap a picture of her. Even when the moon comes out, casting its blue light upon us, I am still in disbelief at how wonderful, beautiful, and kind the one I call “my love” is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow forgot to post this! Whoops!  
> This is based on fantasy and not real life, sadly.


	4. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem about autumn.

As summer glides over the horizon,  
And autumn rises with the moon,  
With it comes a different kind of beauty.  
The grim death that lurks around the corner,  
Waiting for the unsuspecting innocence to go by,  
Is not as heavy as a cloud, for those who aren’t aware.  
The flourishing reds and oranges erupt along the skyline,  
And some even flutter to the ground,  
In a beautiful warm snow fall.  
Even as the awaiting death takes hold,  
Slowly spreading its arms to encompass all,  
There is still a soft beauty.  
In the bare trees, that hold promises of new life,  
With exposed limbs proudly presenting their naked beauty,   
It is there.   
In the shriveling vines, that once held bounties of fruit,  
There is now the soft memory of family and excitement.  
As the last leaf flutters to the ground,  
Bringing an end to the autumnal fall,  
It gives way to snow fall, and new joy.  
The dead leaves that litter the floor,  
Do not hold sorrow,  
But are bursting with energy.  
They tease all who must tread around them,  
Calling you into their depths.  
So while summer mourns its ends,  
Autumn is just bursting with beginning.


	5. iTunes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was iTunes, so I wrote a piece inspired by the song Laughter Lines by Bastille.

I remember the first time you took me down that path, running parallel to the stream. Just as I was about to pass you, continuing on- you didn’t tell me why we’re going down that path- you called for me to stop. You leaned over the stump and told me the story of the tree. The beauty that was held within those rings, and you only got to experience one decade of it. Centuries of life, gone in an instant, but those lines held the stories. The legacy of a once-ignored tree was now being shared as we traced our fingers back in time.

When we left to pursue our dreams, traveling to different parts of the world, I thought that our beauty had been chopped down. But you looked me in the eyes and you swore, “I’ll see you in the future when we are older when we are full of stories to be told. I cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll see you with your laughter lines.” Everyone knows of the stories trapped hidden in the lines of a tree, waiting to finally be able to show themselves, rings displaying history. No one had ever shown me how much our “laughter lines” held.

So now that we are very much so older, and we have lived our lives. We have bounties of stories to share, and we most certainly are covered in wrinkles. Our tired, old, ashen faces and bodies show how much we have lived. We share our stories all night, and into the morning. We have a life time to share. Now I see the true beauty of that tree from so long, the one cut down ten years after your birth, with its thick and thin, dark and light, lines. The lines alternating shades for seasons and years, and thickness showed the health of the tree each growing season. While some may grow detested when they see their laughter lines appearing, I’ve never been happier to see them. The legacy we will leave, may not last in our lines, but they’ll show in the faces and hands of every person we touch. The lines will spread from one to another in a glorious web encompassing every person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my bestie Sammie for the idea to write about a song, and not literally about iTunes. I did phone a friend before writing this, I just had no idea what to write.


	6. I got this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an image I saw of a prom-posal involving a poster that said the same thing. (None of this is from real life experience.)

As I’m holding the sign that’s rolled up, I watch the clock on the wall as seconds and minutes tick down. In less than a minute now the bell will ring and she will walk out into the court yard, for lunch- as will everyone else eating out here today. I feel my heart rate pick up, the butterflies in my stomach are feeling more and more like they’re hosting a riot, trying to escape. The bell is just seconds from sounding, when someone with a free period sees me and gives a knowing smile. They mouth back, “You’ve got this!” I take a deep breath, and just as the bell rings I firmly tell myself, “I got this. I can do this.” I look up and there she is. She smiles and comes towards me. Others in the court yard notice the sign I’m beginning to unravel, they come closer and watch. As she is about 20 feet from me, I unroll it completely. She reads the sign I’ve written. In beautiful- if I don’t say so myself- handwriting I’ve written, “I know we’re not straight, but will you go straight to prom with me?” I watch her eyes as she reads, and the smile that erupts on her face. The beautiful smile that I have continued to fall head over heels for time and time again. “So, I was thinking of doing something straight for once. What do you think?” I call out, with a wide smile, mirroring her. Teary-eyed, she vigorously nods her head, “Yes! Of course!” She rushes towards me and throws her arms around me, while I drop the sign to the ground. She gives me a brief kiss- we are still at school- and hugs me tight. I wasn’t sure how people would respond to our school’s first same-sex promposal, but they seem to be taking it well if the cheers and clapping are anything to go off of. As the crowd dies down and dissipates, my love and I walk arm and arm towards where we eat lunch every day. Keeping it extra classy we sit down on the floor with our friends, and I tell them how it went- I of course had told them all in advance about what I was planning.


	7. Scene after scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little rant about people not pulling their weight.

The five of us sit down to discuss, yet another issue in the group. We are the people running this club, even those who are on our social media front are important. If we cannot get this together how can we ever succeed? Last time only three people even showed up to discuss the current issue! I know that in my position I should be doing more, the problematic people should be removed, but I’m friends with everyone. It’s making things very difficult to make firm decisions so that I don’t appear to be the bad guy. I shouldn’t have to be the one to put my foot down about attending the meetings, if you’re one of the people who should be _running_ the meeting! It should be implied. Everyone signed up to be in their position, and the requirements were very clearly laid out.

The year is about to end, so I guess I should just wait it out. Next year everything goes down in writing. Next year I will be firm and decisive. I’ve already made some plans on how to do that. A software to delegate responsibilities, that will make it very clear who is supposed to have what done by when. No more hear-say or “I thought you were doing it”. Everyone will sign something saying they agree to their responsibilities, and that they can and will be removed if they do not meet the expectations set forth.

I am tired of this bullshit in which everyone is under the assumption they can do the bare minimum and get all the credit. I am tired of being the good friend who won’t call anyone out for their shit. No more. Even if I end up appearing mean, I’m being fair. It’s no secret as to what everyone should be doing, hell half of our responsibilities are in our positions’ titles! The best is when I do miss the occasional meeting, doctor’s appointments or other one-time scheduling concerns, I lay everything out very clearly. I walk everyone through the meeting, and yet still things aren’t getting done. I _understand_ that you have an activity every day that inhibits your ability to attend the meetings, but were you unaware of that commitment when you signed up for your position? No? Oh, then what is the excuse this time. No more excuses, this time it’s serious, I put in hours of my time apart from our one-hour meetings. If you have chosen to stand on the same level of power as me then you can give me _an hour a week._ With great power comes great responsibility...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on true events, this is not meant to attack anyone I've just been frustrated about this for awhile and when the prompt seemed to lend this to be written I took the opportunity to vent.


	8. Dear Anna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter written from a WWII soldier to his lover back in the states.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I brought Captain America, Agent Carter, the Howling Commandos, and Logan Howlett into this.

Dear, Anna,

My dearest, I am writing to you from a bunker, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to send this to you, nor when you will receive it. It’s looking really bad over here. London is getting bombed nearly every night now. Our barracks have been moved presently into this bunker. I have been assigned to be directly partnered with a member of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I am sure by now you have heard of Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, as well as the Howling Commandos. Well, their field manager is Agent Peggy Carter. I’ve been assigned to work with her.

Sorry dear, but I am not a Howling Commando. (I can practically hear your disappointment, love.) I have met them all though, and am bunking with them anytime they are in London. Soon I’ll move wherever Agent Carter goes, so I may be exploring quite a bit of Europe.

You should be very pleased to hear that I will be seeing very little action! I will be a part of the strategy and planning for all raids and attacks, with the Commandos and Agent Carter. As you may have figured out though, that means that you will hear very little of what I am doing, national security and all that. That means more time for me to tell you how beautiful you are, my dear.

Now that I have written all about my time let’s hear about you:

  1. How is your new job at the phone company going?
  2. Any new trend that I should be warned of before I head home? ;)
  3. How are Tammy and Jessabelle holding up?
  4. Are they moving in with you like we discussed? Tell them not to worry, everything is still being funded from our side, but you three need each other.



With much dread and sorrow, I must put my pen to rest now, as I do the same. I love you my dearest, Anna.

With much love,

Sgt. Howlett


	9. He clenched his fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning: Talk of a car accident that has occurred and mention of severe injuries. Nothing severe. Send me a message if you want more information! :)

As the man rushes in, he is paying no mind to who he bumps into, fists clenched with intense anxiety. While some are angry, others understand what he must be going through. This is a hospital after all. The man had received that call not one hour ago that his love was waiting for him, in a hospital bed. His love was _supposed_ to be waiting for him at the cake shop, where they would spend the evening joyfully tasting cake after cake as they designed their perfect wedding cake.

Instead, the man was now frantically filling out paperwork in a hospital- this being the first time his hand has opened up at all, just enough to grip a pen just has harshly-, doing whatever it took for him to see his dear. No one would tell him any information about his dear until all the paperwork was processed and verified. Not one bit of information. Filling out documents should have taken him at least fifteen minutes, he has managed to do it just under ten. As he harshly thrusts them back towards the receptionist, he is given an empathetic look. He is so close to crying and breaking down, but by god, he will see is darling first. In record-breaking speed, the receptionist gives him any needed copies of the paperwork and informs him that the love of his life is in recovery room three and that a nurse will meet him down there.

Just as promised here is the nurse waiting just outside the door.

“Your partner sustained some major injuries in a car crash. You may have heard about it on the news, it was a bad one,” the nurse explained to the man, “The good news is that we were able to respond quickly and go right to emergency surgery. While we made some risky decisions on the table, everything is looking fantastic. Or at least as much as one can expect after such injuries. Would you like me to run down them all or just the major ones? I know you are dying to get in there.”

The man breathes a sigh of brief relief, but his tensely clenched fist has yet to ease up, “Just the major ones, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to anyone who saw how I kept everyone genderneutral except the main character, including the love interest.


	10. A priest walks into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Homophobia. See end comments for more thorough description.

I am rounding a corner in a rush, and a priest walks into me. Or maybe I walked into a priest. I quickly apologize, growing exponentially more flustered by the second. He rests a calming hand on my shoulder and asks if I am alright. When it is clear that my frantic “yeses” are hidden “no’s”, he leads me to a nearby bus stop bench. He asks me what is wrong, but I quickly try to explain that I really must go I actually have a train to catch. He responds with a kind smile and soft words, “Relax child, take just a moment from your busy day for yourself. Tell me, what is wrong?” I take a deep breath and lean my head down on to my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

“You will not like what you hear, father.”

“God does judge. God is forgiveness and love. Share with me, child.”

I sigh again and close my eyes, “My parents have kicked me out. I’m not safe here, I just need to leave.”

“Now why would your parents do such a tragic thing?” the priest inquires, sound shocked to the core.

“You really won’t like it.”

“Why don’t you tell me and we shall see about that.”

“My parents did take to me being gay very well, I guess,” I close my eyes, curling down towards my knees a little tighter. I am waiting for the inevitable anger and outrage. Yet, as moment after moment passes, it does not come. I slowly look up, expecting to see disappoint in his eyes. Yet, again it is not there.

The priest rests his hand on my shoulder softly, “My child God is not upset with you. He is not angry. He is not disappointed. He is not any of the things that your parents tried to tell you that he is. God is love. He loves you, no matter who he loves. If God made you to love some people and not others that is just how it is. Those who are telling you hateful things in God’s name are not believers or followers of the lord. They are just hateful and trying to blame their feelings on someone else. You are strong and can overcome this.”

I am crying before he is even halfway done speaking. I have needed to hear those words for so long, and yet I would never have suspected them to be hearing them at a bus stop on the edge of town from a priest.

“It is okay my dear child. I would like to extend God’s loving hand. Please join me and the church for dinner tonight. We can make up a bed for you, and while I can’t say how long it will be available our arms will forever be open to you.”

I slowly nod, and as he stands he pats my shoulder comfortingly. I follow him down to the old church, and for possibly the first time in my life I am entering a church feeling loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussion of being kicked out by family. This is all about religion but does have a happy ending, in which the priest is NOT homophobic.


	11. Surprise!

My girlfriend and I had been planning to tour Europe for the entire time we’ve been dating, going on now five years, and we are finally doing it! We did a week in the United Kingdom and Ireland, a week in Germany, Austria, and Hungary, a week in Norway, and a week in Italy and Greece. Now we are in our last two weeks in Europe, touring Spain, France, and Portugal. Spain and Portugal are first, as we work our way East- the cheapest flight was out of France surprisingly. Portugal is beautiful, and we spent the majority of our time in the coastal cities. Going to Spain we got to see immense history and culture, as well as many grand cathedrals.

Our days are slowly going down now, as we are in our last week. Seven days in France. We spent the first two days in the country, in the smaller towns. The last five days are for Paris.

Today we are visiting the Eiffel tower and then the Louvre. Walking toward the infamous structure, we are in awe. In person, its grand size is just breathtaking. Just underneath it, we ask someone to take our picture, but as I hand them the phone I tell them to hit video. We stand shoulder to shoulder holding hands when I softly let go. I reach into my pocket and kneel down. I open it and begin asking her for her hand in marriage. She laughs, a sweet one, but still not what I was expecting. She holds her finger up telling me “one moment” and reaches into her purse. Out comes a similar box, and she joins me on with a knee. Opening it I see a beautiful silver and sapphire ring, the ring I have always dreamed of. Now we are both laughing because of course, we would propose at the same time. We both say yes of course. The feeling of sliding the ring onto her finger, and her sliding the ring onto mine, brought me to tears. As we stand we embrace tightly, and onlookers are clapping. I truly love this woman, more than I ever thought I possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a video I've seen of two women who accidentally planned to propose to each other at the same time. This definitely isn't my best writing, but the video is adorable.


	12. May I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mild descriptions of an anxiety attack. Brief, but still mentioned.

I am struggling to get the lock on my locker to open and the minutes are counting down to first period quickly. Growing more frustrated I try again. This is most certainly the correct combination, but the locks on these lockers just get finicky. I’ve already asked a teacher in the hall, and he just told me to try the combination again and to jiggle it a bit. _Thanks for that oh so useful advice…_ My anxiety, of course, decides now is the time to flare, and my service dog, Bear, is signaling that I need to sit down. I, of course, leave my locker alone and sit down, no point injuring myself fainting just to open a locker. Bear begins deep pressure therapy, which is helping, but I’m still on edge. Just as the halls are starting to empty, the new teacher at the school sees me. She comes up to me and kneels down near me, but not too close. She talks slowly and very calmly, “Hi, I am the new teacher here, and have not been given much information about you. Where would you like me to be so that I’m not making anything worse?”

For once, someone who takes the time to ask that first, and not just crowd into my space. The bell signaling the start of first period startles me a bit. I breathe deeply, and pet bear a bit, “Right there is okay. Just don’t touch me please.”

She nods and smiles softly, “Of course. Can you tell me what happened and how I can help?”

I nod slightly, “My locker was giving my trouble. With the crowded hallway and time running close to the bell, I got a bit stressed. Bear signaled that my pulse was skyrocketing and that I needed to sit down so I didn’t faint. I just need help with my locker, and then a bit of help standing.”

She glances at my still locked locker. “Those things can be tough, and the hallways get loud, don’t they?” she asked rhetorically. I nod a little. Extending an arm towards the locker, but still keeping her distance from me, she asks, “May I?”

“Be my guest, and thank you,” I answer, handing her the card that I’ve written my combination on.

She puts it in and the first time can’t get it open. I can feel a spike in my anxiety and pulse again. The second time though, she moves the knob so that each number is actually slightly passed the arrow, not directly under it. She is able to get it open.

“Sometimes the lines are messed up, and you just have to try stopping a little early or late. Can I help you stand in any way? Do you want me to grab your books?”

My locker is a top locker, so no bending down necessary, I’ll just need help to stand. I give Bear the signal to sit next to me.

“If you would be willing to help me stand that would be great. You have to put your arm under my underarm, otherwise, my joints may dislocate, is that okay?”

“Of course,” she replies with a smile as she stands up. She puts her hands where they need to go, “You ready?"

“Yes, thank you,” I say, one hand resting on the wall to be able to help.

She is able to quite smoothly get me standing, and then she waits for me to get adjusted to the blood flow change. I hold onto Bears mobility harness, for the added support, and grab my books.

“Thank you so much. I lot of the teachers just get too close to me too fast. I am in such awe at how you handled that.”

“My close friend is disabled, and has a service dog, I’ve learned some tricks from her. He was performing DPT, yes?” she inquires.

We start walking towards my class, which sadly is on the other side of the building.

“Yeah, it was.” I truly am impressed.

She walks me all the way to my class and then explains to my teacher what happened. I thank her again, and head into class. I wish more people were as educated as her.


	13. Noodles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a hot mess. The prompt noodles made me think of how we are all connected, and then I started writing and never mentioned noodles so....... oops

I have something in common,

With nearly 7.5 billion people.

I share something with each one

From the poorest to even those who are regal.

 

Some are much taller,

Some may speak a different language,

Some are much smaller,

But, I share something with all, even the top percentage.

 

It is easy to look at the difference,

These are what stand out the most,

But you must have patience,

To see past what many boast.

 

Has the similarity begun to materialize?

What it is that we all share.

Even when you don’t realize,

It is always there.

 

I am one of 7.5 billion humans,

Each with unique DNA

Yet, in every single movement,

You see that the similarity isn’t actually that far away.


	14. Coffee

Realizing that I am running late for my first day of work, I rush out of bed, into the shower, and then into some clothes. No time to wait for the coffee to be made at home, and I’m for sure not going without it, so I order it online, so I can pick it up on my way to the office. Running down the street to the coffee shop I definitely risk getting hit by a car when crossing a couple streets. Just as I walk into the café I see them place my cup down. I thank the barista, pour the coffee into my thermos, put the thermos into my bag, and head back out onto the street. I jog the last block to work, and looking down at my watch I see that I have made up the time.

I slow down as I go through the door, but not enough as I run into a man who is walking in. He is much taller than me, my line of sight being at his collarbone. Immediately I felt the blush rising up my face, but am still standing against him, frozen in place. He taps my shoulder, and I break free of the spell and take a step back. Frantically I begin apologizing, “I am so sorry, sir. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” God, I was grateful that I had my coffee in my backpack, and not all over his suit. I finally look up, and of-fucking-course I ran into the CEO of my new job, on the first day. The blush has returned.

“It’s okay,” his voice a beautiful baritone, and he pulls the door upon, “After you.”

I mumble my thanks and go in, hella embarrassed.

“Are you new? I don’t recognize you.”

“Yes, sir. This is my first day.”                                

“What department?” he stops to continue speaking, as we will be heading in different directions in a moment.

“Marketing, sir.”

“Well, I am sure you will fit in quite well. I am sure you need to get going, and if you are late to anything, just let them know you were with me. If you face any problems don’t be afraid to get in touch. Please enjoy your first day, and welcome,” he ends with a smile. God, I needed that little pep talk.


	15. Grass

“Blue, fill the water bottles. River pack some snacks. Does everyone have their cleats and shin guards?” I shout down the stairs.

“I’ve got both of our stuff, River already packed some snacks earlier. They're putting the lawn chair and umbrella in the car, they should be back in a minute,” Blue calls back.

God those two keep me sane. I can’t believe I overslept again, I really need to make another doctor’s appointment. Heading downstairs, I peek out the front windows and see River heading back towards the house.

As they walks in and sees me she smiles, “Hey, Cenn. How’d you sleep? You look better!”

“Much better, Kiddo! Been doing that a lot recently haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but if your body needs it, let it have it,” they respond.

I call into the kitchen, “Blue, you almost ready?”                   

“Walking towards you know, Cenn.”

Just as he finishes saying it, I see him rounding the corner.

“Alright everyone in the car. We got everything?”

I get two yes, and head out. I wait to hear the beep of one of them locking the door. Unlocking the car, I also open the back doors. We all climb in and I drive us to the soccer fields. Blue is 16 and River is 12, so they could be playing school sports, but I’m glad they’ve stayed in recreational. It’s not unreasonably competitive, and it means they play at roughly the same time on the same fields.

Arriving at the fields, the two hop out, and Blue is kind enough to grab my lawn chair when he grabs his.

I kiss the top of his head, “Thanks, piglet.”

I then turn to River, “Good luck, bug.”

Their game warm-up starts about twenty minutes before Blue’s. Blue will even be able to cheer on his sibling for a bit before he has to go warm-up.

Not ten minutes after getting there, River runs up to me.

“Cenn, can I have a bandage?”

I look down to where River is holding a towel to their knee. They take the towel away so I can see a small abrasion. The location is making it look worse than it actually is.

I’m already grabbing the necessary bandage and antibiotic ointment when I say, “Course, Kiddo.”

Handing over the bandage and ointment, I ask with a laugh, “You try to fight the grass?”

“Yeah, you know, last time it tried to stain my socks. Had to show it who's boss. You should see how it locks,” River laughs back.

After applying the bandage River runs back onto the field. Blue, taps my shoulder, then says “Gonna head over to warm-up. I know it’s a little early but I see some others down there. Is that okay?”

“’Corse, piglet. Good luck. From here I can see both fields, so rock it out there,” I respond with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cenn is short for Cennand and is a gender-neutral term for parent. It is pronounced like Ken.


	16. Coaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an absolute hot mess. Inspired by the poem called Perfect by Maia Mayor. Link- https://youtu.be/u0HZZgxrmOU

“Put your drink on the coaster,” scolds my mother.

“Do you really need to be drinking soda?

You know soda is bad for you.

Do you want to be unhealthy?

My god, do you care about your health at all?

Do you see how hard I worked to get healthy?

Do you not care about me?”

My mother wants me to be like her.

And nothing like her.

My mother wants me to be me.

But nothing like me.

Apparently, you _can_ be yourself wrong.

I am not perfect, but I also never said that I was.

Nor, did I say I wanted to be.

Mom, my drink is room temperature with no condensation.

It can’t ruin the wood.

Yes, I am drinking the soda, the ginger helps calm my stomach,

While also tasting good.

Yes, I care about my health.

Do you care about my health?

Physical sure, but not mental?

Why can I stay home if my nose is running,

But not if I’m hyperventilating?

You are not perfect.

But I do not ask you to be.

My room is messy,

But those are your socks on the living room floor.

Haven’t you always preached that open areas of the house are to be spotless?

What if someone were to come over?

I’ve chosen never to ask who is spontaneously coming over without any notice.

You are right I am not perfect,

You are not perfect,

Stop striving for "perfect".

Accept my best,

My happiest,

My version of perfect.

Accept your best,

Your happiest,

Your version of perfect.


	17. Flower Patterns

Sitting in the living room is a little old woman, who has lived through far too much. She is looking through old photos. Many are damaged along the edges, some are black and white. Some are people long since passed, while others are of those whose lives have just begun. The windows along the wall to her left are open and the summer breeze moves the curtains to and fro. Those beautiful flower patterned curtains that once were made of a young girl’s dress. It hurt to take that girl’s dress and make curtains, but the girl had no use for the dress and money was tight- it hurt more to lose the girl than it did the dress.

This one woman has seen been through far too much. From Italy, to a boat, to Ellis Island, all at just 15. By the time she was 16, she was working to help the household. She was among the first generation of young women to be able to vote at 21. She had had children, lost that little girl. Her children had children, who are now having children of their own. She has lived for so long, done so much, and she can feel she is reaching the end. Going through the photos is allowing her to accomplish one more impressive feat, traveling back in time.


	18. Lemon Wedges

My aunt once told me that lemon prevents kidney stones. I don’t know if this is true, but if it is, I am never getting a kidney stone. At my favorite restaurant for my birthday, my mom has just asked me if I wanted some water for my lemon. Confused, I look down. This is when I realized that in my normal sized glass of water I had nine lemon wedges. It is no surprise then to learn that I love the taste of lemon. Later on in the evening, she offers to bring the dessert menu, to which we, of course, said yes to. When I saw that the special of the day was lemon cake, I knew what I was getting. Looking up at the rest of my family at the table, I realized that they did too. Apparently, I am extremely predictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this only half of what I actually wrote, so it's hella short. The rest was a bit too personal, and I'm not quite ready to share. It's a hot mess anyway, and was really off topic and did not fit the first half at all, so I don't think it's missing anything.  
> (P.S. This is a true story FYI. I fucking love lemons.)


	19. Telephone Cord

Rushing into the kitchen to start making dinner, I noticed that this room could not be any more hectic than it currently is. My ma is sitting at the kitchen table on the phone, cord stretched across the entire kitchen. My brother is sitting at the table surround by papers, presumably homework. Pa has the cord running between his legs as he hovers over the table to help him. My sister is at the stove making her infamous lemonade. It is important to note that our kitchen is tiny. The room can’t possibly be any smaller whilst being able to fit a fridge, a stove, an oven, a sink, and the table. There isn’t even enough room to get a table large enough to fit five chairs at properly, so we alternate using a foldable chair from the shed.

Ma is rambling on about some event that apparently Pa is taking “the boys” to over the weekend. I never caught what it is, but looking at Pa and my brother they don’t know either. We are all hoping it’s not something lame.

While being tall and lanky has never benefitted me in gym class, it definitely helps when maneuvering around an overpopulated kitchen. As a result of the location of the cabinets, the phone, and the kitchen table, I have to walk over the cord many times. This is for sure made easier by that fact that Pa is holding it down between his legs. It’s still a tripping hazard, but my long legs off an easier transition over the cord. I have always found it odd that after Ma gets home from the grocery store she puts everything away, even the stuff that I’ll use to make dinner in five or so minutes.


	20. Used Tissue

Being a first-grade teacher has its ups and downs.  I love working with children, and it’s amazing to see them grow throughout the year. I do not love picking up the nasty things that children leave strewn about the room, no sense of hygiene in any of their minds. As their teacher, I took it upon myself to recognize where they are all struggling and begin having daily lessons and activities to address their lack of cleanliness. Surprisingly, I have seen an improvement. I shouldn’t be too surprised, children are very good at following a routine. This is why potty-training tends to happen rapidly once they first get the idea. If you give them steps, and maybe a little rhyme, they tend to remember them.

All of this being said I am still picking up a used tissue off a table while the kids are at lunch in the cafeteria, with the TA. As gross as it is, I’ve gotten used to it. I’m also extremely happy that at least one of them is _using_ a tissue, and not just their sleeve, or who knows what else. The number of wrappers, paper scraps, _and_ used tissues lying across the room has actually decreased. We’ll work on this particular issue a little bit more today. Again, I think once they figure out that there is a routine they need to follow they’ll go through the motions each time. Teaching good habits while they are in this period of their life where they are especially susceptible to memorizing step-by-step processes is extremely important. This is the period of their lives in which daily rituals like getting dressed, brushing their teeth, and bathing becomes engrained in them.

I am very pleased with the number of parents that are also encouraging the step-by-step routines that I have laid out for instances such as blowing their nose or cleaning up after a craft. Having that reinforcement at home with their parents is also very important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea where the thought for this came from.


	21. Leopard Print

I have found that wearing off-putting colors and patterns has become my visual disclaimer.

No one without some sort of quirk wears leopard print leggings or bright blue lipstick.

I had spent so long convincing myself and others this is not what I was doing,

I would loudly proclaim that this bright lipstick is for _me_.

That I did not care what _you_ thought, because it was for _me_.

Ignoring the sigh of relief that passed my lips every time another person that I thought was getting to close to seeing the truth left.

And now someone, _you_ , are seeing through my façade.

You ignored the signs,

The ones posted every ten steps,

Painted in bright colors that matched the rest of my disguise.

You are pulling down the walls that I built so high,

And the ones I wouldn’t let you through,

You built windows in.

You have constructed ladders and wrecking balls out of sweet conversations.

I am finally seeing past my own graffiti signs and see what’s written underneath.

I can finally see the true foundation of each of them,

I am learning it was never concrete.

So I would like to make an amendment.

You can wear bright leopard print leggings,

Bright blue lipstick,

And whatever the fuck else you want to wear.

But check again to ensure they are not warning signs.

Make sure you put it on for you.

If there is any doubt in your mind, you check again.

So I still wear bright lipstick and clothes

But I am _actually_ wearing them for me this time.

I am not defensive if anyone questions my motives,

Because I have no reason too.

I am no longer pushing people away from me with my colors,

But showing them sneak peaks of what is in store.

I am bursting with color and life, and everyone who wants to,

Should be allowed to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone is actually reading my work, but if you would be interested in me posting an audio file of me reading this poem, please leave a comment. <3


	22. USB

“Give it back!” I shouted to my brother, who was currently dangling my lanyard ten feet in front of me. This was my first day at the community college. I’m doing a dual enrollment, so I am taking classes at the community college while in my junior year of high school. I needed that lanyard! It had my I.D., my bus pass, and my USB with all my important files.

I decided to only take one class this semester, the other class in the clusters I’m signed up for didn’t fit my schedule or I wasn’t interested. This class is a hybrid, so it is mostly online and once a week I have class on campus. I needed my lanyard to just _get_ on campus, and then I needed it _for_ class.

My class is a business class; it is Entrepreneurship I. I’ve dabbled in the business field before, and have even made a complete business plan. I’m interested in learning more about the field and ways to improve my current plan. It would also be cool to have inspiration for future ideas. The plan I currently have I made at a two-week camp, having gone in with _absolutely no_ experience in the subject. I then revised the plan for a business competition. I didn’t place at the competition, but it was an amazing experience. If I learned so much from just three days at that competition, I am ecstatic to see what I can learn in an eight-week class. Next semester I’ll take the second entrepreneurship class. At the end of the class, you should be able to develop a business plan. I am curious to see how that plan compares to the ones I’ve made in the past. I’ve saved every copy of my plan so that I can see how I’ve grown and progressed.


	23. Rough Cut

Interning on this movie set has been such an experience. Being at the table when we first read through the plans for the movie, being there for the first script reading, being on set, and now watching the rough cut has been such an amazing time. I’ve learned so much!

I was nervous to even accept the internship, my friends had to convince me to do it, but I am so glad that they did. Getting into this industry is so difficult. On set, I not only learned the ins and outs of everything, but I also made connections for down the road. I still plan to finish out my schooling, I see the benefit in classroom settings. That being said, if another opportunity like this arises, I’m definitely accepting. Class is great for learning the rudimentary skills and then on set offers practical application and understanding of those skills. Having contacts for after school, when I am ready to fully enter the industry is super important to ensure any sort of job. School and experience are only useful if I can land a job. No point having all this knowledge and then never going anywhere with it. That’s one of the biggest fears that many of my peers share. The thought that we could spend so much time and energy- and money- to be able to understand the technical side of movie production, but then never being able to make a movie is terrifying.


	24. Inner Workings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very odd poem.

Tick. Tock.

Click. Click.

Everything has a system.

Inner workings that control it all.

Organization.

Method.

It is important that every cog is aligned just right.

Click. Click.

Skip. Click.

Back in line.

Realign.

You are part of a system.

Back in line.

Realign.

We are part of a system.

Back in line.

Realign.

Make sure everything is just _so._

The system has a goal.

An end product.

A standard model that should be reproduced.

A becomes B.

You become me.

We become copies.

All end results should match.

We all go through the system.

We all go through the same mold.

The same frame.

We all end the same way.

This does not leave room for creativity.

Silent!

Tick. Tock.

Click. Click.

Make sure you don’t cause the skip.

Back in line.

Realign.

_Back in line._

_Realign._


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolute hot mess.

I do not like striped curtains. Actually, I really don’t like stripes in general. I have zero inspiration for this prompt. When I was little my bedroom walls were striped, pink and green. They were very thick stripes.

My grandmother had striped curtains in their kitchen. It is important to know that those curtains matched nothing else in the room, for real _nothing_. She alternated the tablecloth to have leaves or flowers, depending on the time of year.

I’m going to randomly describe stuff about my grandparent’s house now because I’m determined to write for ten minutes but have literally no inspiration to write about anything else.

Their kitchen floor was this weird green and black granite looking tile. They were like pentagon shaped, but none of them were exactly the same. I didn’t like the coloring of the tiles, but the shapes were cool. It would have looked better with more of a sand-colored tiling, to match the browns and sands of the cabinets.

The carpet in their living room, dining room (WHY WAS THIS ROOM CARPETED!?!?!), stairs, and upstairs was this grey-blue color. It wasn’t the softest carpet, but it didn’t hurt my sensitive skin so it wasn’t too bad. The house was the house my grandfather grew up in and hasn’t been renovated in more than thirty years. Its decoration matched the era in which it was last renovated. The furniture in their living room is something straight of the 40s. It is very old fashioned and isn’t very comfortable.

The house has a closed layout, each room was separated. It is clearly designed so you know when you were in a new room. This is not optimal if you are going to be hosting Thanksgiving with a large family. Entertaining is difficult if everyone is separated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had absolutely no inspiration so this is just me rambling for ten minutes.


	26. Heavy

I recently discovered the term SJW. Social Justice Warrior. I am surprised it has taken me so long to become aware of this term. But, part of me isn’t surprised. Social justice warrior is defined as a person who expresses or promotes socially progressive views. Yet, from what I have gathered that is not the meaning of this term. I have expressed and promoted socially progressive view proudly. SJW is not being used to symbolize a group of people fighting for equality, or equity, who are working extremely hard, using all of their resources, to bring justice to marginalized groups of people how have had rights ripped away from them. SJW is being used as an insult. “I can already tell that the SJWs are going to attack me for this.” If you know that a group of people with socially _progressive_ views are going to be upset, maybe you need to reevaluate.

My discovery with the term SJW resulted from a YouTube video. The video was titled “I used to be a nonbinary SJW and why I’m not anymore”. Watching it, I understood that the person in the video had bad experiences in places that should have been welcoming. A GSA should stand for acceptance and respect and understanding. A GSA shouldn’t attack anyone for having different views- with the exception being if people are attacking the GSA, I can understand a response. While I don’t agree with LGBT+ who support(ed) Trump, I’m not going to attack people for it. I feel bad for the person in the video who was attacked for such views. I also understand that many trans* people explore the label of nonbinary before finding a term that better suits them. I also understand the opposite is true. I personally identify as non-binary. Looking at the term SJW, and it’s definition and meaning, I would define myself as such. Yet, I will not be calling myself a “nonbinary SJW” because this term is supposed to be bad, from what I have found. That being defensive when people use slurs, calling out people who have done horrendous things, standing against oppressors, disagreeing with society, wanting government and social reform, and believing in a different economic system are somehow bad things.

A term that has a meaning like “a person who expresses or promotes socially progressive views” should not be painful to be associated with. Who does a society progress without people “who express or promote socially progressive views”? I shouldn’t feel the need to hide my views or my identity as a feminist if I want to make friends. A slam poem I like is called “Pocket Sized Feminism”, and I relate so much to a line from it in which she says, “I am ashamed of keeping my feminism in my pocket until it is convenient… but sometimes I want to be liked more than I want to change the world.” I am not expecting everyone to be my friend because I’m a feminist, but I shouldn’t have to leave my social life on the other side of the rally. Another poem I like, called "Suffragette 69", has a line in which she says, “My feminism is not a hat I can take off with the rest of my clothes.”

Being considered socially progressive should not be an insult. Reading the comments on the video I mentioned, people were saying how they used to be SJWs too, but now they aren’t. Do they suddenly all of opposite political and socioeconomic views? Or are they keeping such views hidden? Are they ashamed? Are they scared that they will be labeled as an SJW by someone? I’m not attacking these people, I am confused. I want to better understand the history of the term SJW, as well as the connotation of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not giving the link of the main video mentioned, though I have stated the actual title.  
> Here are the links for the other poems I mentioned:  
> Pocket Sized Feminism- https://youtu.be/vT74LH0W8ig  
> Suffragette 69- https://youtu.be/dD2x21JCn5c


End file.
